


Ten Years

by Kadakism



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 21:27:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20664059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kadakism/pseuds/Kadakism
Summary: Ten years without Batman wears down on Gotham. A crippled Bruce has to decide which of his sons to sentence with that burden.





	Ten Years

**Author's Note:**

> A short fic based on this Tumblr post: [Reluctant Batman Jason AU, original art by jellzu](https://intj-thought.tumblr.com/post/187589174659/i-wanna-see-reluctant-batman-jason-in-an-au).  
Props to [Romiress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romiress/) for twisting my arm to make me post this.

_It's been ten years since Bruce was finally beaten by the injury he received from his first encounter with Bane._ Spines aren't meant to take as much punishment as his has in his long tenure as Batman and eventually the best medicine money can buy just isn't enough. He can manage to walk in short bursts; the technology has improved greatly since Barbara was crippled. But even taking the stairs in the Manor can be too much for him some days.

His sons and daughters have tried to maintain his work in his absence, but it's a losing battle. There's a truth in the slow erosion of the ground they have been standing on: Gotham needs Batman. Bruce knows who he has to ask to take up the mantle. He's had more than enough time to think it over.

It can't be Dick. He and Barbara are settled down in Bludhaven. Respectable jobs, a child. Things Dick wouldn't put at risk even if Bruce asks him. And Bruce won't. Dick doesn't have the fortitude or the restraint to be Batman. His anger surfaces infrequently; just enough to be a problem but not enough to reliably manage.

It can't be Tim either. He's too eager, too dogmatic. Bruce is certain that the mantle would swallow him whole and leave nothing behind. Like it had almost done countless times to Bruce himself. Tim's mind is his best asset, and to utilize it properly he has to maintain himself.

Bruce won't let it be Damian. He knows if he asked Damian to jump his son would ask how high. But he's happy with the Titans and has been for years. Bruce knows that those kids in some ways a better family for Damian than he could ever really be.

That leaves Bruce with the one option he has. He knows Jason won't want it but he also knows he won't refuse. Jason understands the necessity better than Dick does. Death and rebirth, rejection and welcoming back have all worked to make Jason exactly the person Bruce needs to take up the war in his stead.

_It's been ten years since the Riddler's last tussle with the Bat._ He lost a bit of the pep in his step when his favorite opponent vanished; tonight he's feeding his nostalgia. The Gotham Museum of Art has a special exhibit of fourteenth century puzzle boxes that he simply cannot resist.

He's in full swing, like it's his first night in costume again. The alarms have been cut, the camera feed looped. His hired hands all have their matching green balaclava on. The guards are all taking naps since they couldn't best the riddle of a sap to the back of the head. Everything is going perfectly and frankly Nygma is finding himself bored until glass shatters overhead.

Nygma's face practically lights up when he sees the silhouette that drops onto the floor among his men. His old nemesis, back from the grave! The last big riddle he never got to solve, unearthed and moving just like he did all those years ago. So fast. So strong. So… brutal? Now that's a riddle, isn't it?

Nygma's glee only grows as one by one the men he hired are thrown through displays and left broken and unconscious on the floor. Idiots, every one of them. At least they gave him time to think of a proper greeting for his old friend.

"Batman, as I live and breathe! You're rather spry for a dead man. Tell me: what is made in the morning but gone by noon, never-" Nygma doesn't get to finish his riddle. A fist with much less restraint than he remembers connects with his solar plexus.

_It's been ten years since Gordon has gotten a call about Batman._ Giving up smoking was somehow easier with Batman gone. Pulling up to the museum though, he hesitates and grabs the pack he keeps in his glove compartment. He doesn't know if he's going to need it, but better safe than sorry.

Stepping onto the scene proper, it's like he's been flung back in time. Lowlifes litter the floor like trash back during the garbage strike days. Hands all zip tied, nice and professional. Nygma is much the same, in the center of it all like a lime green Christmas present. Even a rookie, Malcolm this time, nursing a sore arm and getting razzed by an older, wiser officer.

There are differences though. Nygma's mouth is taped over. Thank God for that at least; Jim snorted a bit under his breath at how nice it would be to not have to listen to his endless yammering. One of the crime scene guys whistles Gordon over. "He says you two need to talk." The man's gaze falls on the far end of the room where a familiar shadow looms. Another difference; he never stuck around like this before.

Gordon steps over, his hand fidgeting with the cigarettes in his pocket. He's definitely going to need a smoke after this. "So did he send you or are you just a fan," he says curtly. He isn't here for some bullshit copycat. Jason doesn’t bother with the patented growl when he replies. "Do you really think someone could run around in this fucking thing without his express permission?"

Gordon recognizes the voice and he feels a chill run up his spine. Jason can practically see him shiver and the frown he gives tells Gordon as much. "Don't worry, you won't have to count bodies. My skill set, his rules."

"But God. Why you, isn't there-"

"No, Gordon. There isn't anyone else. You need Batman. And as far as Bruce and I are concerned, I'm the only person who deserves this."

"You make it sound like a punishment," Gordon says, trying to clear the growing itch in the back of his throat. He briefly wonders if he'd get lectured for lighting one up right here. His mind is going through all of the Red Hood cases he can remember and he’s calculating what kind of a PR nightmare this new Batman is going to be.

Jason’s frown deepens; Jim doesn’t think that he’s ever seen any of the boys really look like Bruce until that moment. Jason is just glad that Gordon can’t see the weariness in his eyes. "Isn't it though?"


End file.
